


Shadows in our soul

by EifanGale



Category: Orrigional
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 23:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16543973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EifanGale/pseuds/EifanGale
Summary: Preston Kelly is an eccentric young man, as colorful and wild in his appearance as he is by nature. What is he up to?





	Shadows in our soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a piece I was doing as a collaboration with someone. They stopped talking to me, so I decided to share it anyways. I did not take any of his characters or settings. All of this is mine.   
> I don't think I will be expanding on this, though that could potentially change in the future. For now, consider it done.

Noisy and crowded places will always hide the smaller details in the clamor to be heard. While this seems like a nuisance to most, a select few will actively seek out the cacophony in order to drown out their nefarious dealings. Preston Kelly was one such individual, though he did not look the part. 

“Ever the ladies’ man, are you not Mr. Kelly?” A deep southern drawl drew Preston’s attention to a portly man dressed in stereotypical attire for the accent. Preston eyed the repulsive green plaid button down and worn out jeans. The man even managed to find a fake cowboy hat made out of cheap plastic. “You are not convincing y’know. Don’t you think you are over doing it again John?” 

The newcomer sneered down at Preston, taking in the exotic features of the man in front of him as if for the first time. An asymmetrical collection of piercings adorned his face and ears, Sapphire undercut sweeping forward to frame his striking ice blue eyes. Preston's posture was relaxed, though the tension his muscles suggested he would be ready to spring at a moment's notice. 

“Have a seat. I hear you brought me something?” Preston offered, gesturing to the booth in front of him. The smile that crept over his lips was about as inviting as poison dripping from a snake's fangs. John glanced at the proffered seat, and shook his head. Instead he reached slowly into the pocket of his coat to retrieve a brightly wrapped gift. 

“I will have to decline to join you this time Mr. Kelly. Here.” John tossed the package roughly the size of an overstuffed envelope onto the table. “How do you suspect that what I am wearing would go less noticed than all of this?” John asked, gesturing towards the display in front of him. “Even if the hair didn't stand out, you are far overdressed for this side of town.” The lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he did not approve of the exotic appearance. 

Preston simply laughed, having heard the question more often than he cared to answer it. “No one expects the man that stands out to have anything to hide; why would they? If your superiors have not warned you about me, you wouldn't be dressed like a Hollywood reject. I have my reasons.” The small package had disappeared from the table and into Preston's pocket. He waved his hand in a general gesture of dropping the subject as a waitress approached, looking apprehensive. 

“Ill have a glass of water and a chicken salad dear, no dressing please.” The sapphire man informed her before she could ask. She rushed to write the order on her ticket book, obviously disturbed by the men in front of her. Preston looked inviting, if unapproachable; John's posture exuded contained violence as he loomed over the young woman. She opened her mouth and turned to John as if to ask if he would be ordering as well. He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Nothing for me, thank you. I was just leaving.” 

The waitress nodded, turning on her heel to all but run in the opposite direction. “You could at least try to act like you are not on the edge of mass murder.” Preston chided. “ My friends shouldn't be scaring the locals, it draws attention.” John had a laugh at that, his round belly threatening to break buttons as it rolled under the shirt. “Says the man who has the eyes of every person in the diner. They warned me that you were eccentric, but I didn't believe you were this much of a fool.” 

“Fool I may be, but fools are also highly underestimated. Have a good day John, and tell them to send me someone else next time.” Preston turned far enough away from the man to indicate that the conversation was over and John was dismissed, but only just so. It wouldn't do to put someone like him at your back in this line of work. Especially after offering a thinly veiled threat, then telling him to fuck off. 

The café continued to hum around Preston well after his guest had left, attention of the other diners dying down to nothing more than spared glances in his direction. Once the meal he had ordered arrived, he glared down at the leafy lies on his plate, ignoring the remaining attention he was getting. 

‘Honestly, if it weren’t for how expensive this damned suit is to dry clean I’d be having something much better.’ He thought to himself as he choked down the first bite. The chicken was wonderful, but the rest of the plate could use some dressing to swim in. 

“Are you sure you don’t want something more, or different hun?” The waitress had returned once Preston had finished everything but the lettuce and resigned himself to playing with it instead. Her voice had steadied and a look of pity overtook the fear from earlier. 

“If I order anything better, I will just make a mess of my clothes Darlene. You have seen me do it.” The young woman laughed as she cleared his dishes away. “I know you are a messy eater, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t have something besides a salad.” Darlene hitched the bus tub onto her wide hips, her stance suggesting a practiced ease with the motion. Preston simply shrugged, propping his chin up on his palm. 

“Can we substitute the lettuce for some more of that chicken maybe? Ken must be a god; I don’t have a better explanation as to why it’s so tender.” 

“I think we can manage that.” She giggled, turning on her heel to clear the next table over. “Ken loves it when I tell him that you sing his praises. Most of our customers just tip and leave, but you make the staff here feel appreciated.” Darlene stopped what she was doing to wave a rag at him, a smirk playing on her lips. “If you keep it up, you just won’t be allowed to leave one day. I think Ken might even have the hots for you.” 

Preston’s eyes widened a bit, and Darlene could see the mischief in his eyes. “Oh really? Do tell, love!” 

A crash in the kitchen stole both of their attention, the swinging doors behind Preston’s seat flying outward violently. “Let’s not and say we did little miss!” A deep voice boomed through the little café, coming from a teddy bear of a man dressed in standard kitchen attire. Ken could have been mistaken for short and round, though in reality, the man’s poor posture lost him half a foot, and the attire hid the muscles built from years of kitchen work. Dark brown eyes flicked back and forth between the waitress and the sapphire patron before retreating slowly back into the kitchen. A moment passed as Darlene and Preston exchanged glances before bursting into raucous laughter. 

Preston dug a wallet from his pocket, laying down enough money for the bill and a generous tip. He wiped a tear of joy from his eye, and looked over to his favorite waitress. “Tell him, if you dare, that I said if he is feeling froggy, he should leap.” Darlene’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as she watched him leave, knowing full well that Ken would have heard every word on his own. 

*******************************************************************

Preston closed the door to his apartment behind him quietly, the locks sliding into place with the faintest of clicks. He kept his footsteps light as air across the ugly brown carpet towards his bedroom. The neighbors did not know when he came or went, and rarely knew if he was even home. Preston took great care to keep it this way; nosy neighbors cannot be concerned for behavior that is out of the norm, if they have no norm to compare it to.

Going about his nightly routine as normal, Preston couldn't help but wonder when his contacts would start getting aggravated with him. He was definitely good at sending messages to their targets, but he was hard to work with. Eventually that balance would tip out of his favor.

Preston decided to put the thought from his mind for the moment and concentrate on what was at hand. He took a seat at the modest wooden table in the kitchen with dinner and the envelope in hand. Now dressed in comfortable clothes that were already stained beyond repair, he opted for a much messier meal. Pulled pork, potatoes and green beans swam in butters and sauces as appropriate on the plate, and Preston looked like a man on the brink of starvation at the mess; salads were really not enough.

As he stuffed his gullet, the bright colors of the package kept his peripheral attention until he pushed aside the empty plate. “Let's see what we have this time, shall we?” He asked himself out loud, reaching for a napkin to clean the sauce from his face and fingers. The quiet of his small apartment was interrupted by the sound of shuffling papers as he skimmed each profile.

“For fucks sake you piece of shit, when will you get the message?” He asked out loud to no one in particular, with nothing in the packet that fit his M/O. The thick packet plopped noisily onto the desk in front of him, scattering the papers haphazardly. Preston sat back in his chair and huffed, his eyes rolling to the ceiling in frustration. 

‘What happened to saving the world?’ he asked himself internally.

Preston thought back to the early days of police academy, where he had sat with wide eyes and a heart of gold waiting for his first class to start. He wanted to save people, and fooled himself into thinking that he could put that white knight syndrome to use in the force. He often wondered if he would have ever gained the skills needed to actually do something about the evils in the world if he had not been so naive and joined up as soon as they would let him. At the same time, it felt as though the more he learned, the less he could do and it infuriated him to no end.

Preston sat upright again, determined to drive the point home this time when he noticed a profile in the stack that caught his eye. At first glance it seemed like a high ranking mob boss, but Preston recognized the face. He picked the paper from the mess and checked it more carefully.

Galilei Ricci, 62 years of age, big time drug dealer. Why would his contact want to take out such an important money maker for his own organization? Preston glanced over the profile to the compensation, letting out a long whistle. “You, Sir just ordered a visit from the grim reaper. That’s a hefty price on your head… what did you do?” Preston wondered.


End file.
